


Carnal Bloodshed

by apex__predator



Series: Makings of a Killer [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Bestiality, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Family Issues, Flashbacks, Forest Sex, Gen, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Instability, Necrophilia, Oral Fixation, Power Imbalance, Predator/Prey, Psychological Horror, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sadism, Self-Indulgent, Size Difference, Watersports, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 13:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20582996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apex__predator/pseuds/apex__predator
Summary: "Ever since his mum had gone missing, Mathew had been a bit unhinged.  Actually, he had always been a little bit unhinged.""Death didn’t phase Mathew in the way it should.  It made his fingers thrum and his head swivel in excitement."





	Carnal Bloodshed

**Author's Note:**

> **This fic has heavy material**, please refer to the tags.  
If anything is mistagged/untagged, please let me know and I'll edit the tags.
> 
> **This fic has a sequel!** The content/triggers are completely different so it will be posted as a separate work instead of a second chapter. It will be added as an end note & added to the series once posted.
> 
> _DISCLAIMER_: This is all fiction!! Illegal or aggressive behavior modeled in this work is for fantasy purposes only and the author does not support bestiality, necrophilia, etc. IRL.

Mathew is at his limit.

His arms spasmed, his legs shook and more importantly, his heart ached.

Really, he was no different from anyone else. Average buzzcut type style, dirty blond. His eyes weren’t chocolate or chestnut, just a bland beige. That’s why it confused him why Ren and his posé targeted him. 

His lip was busted and his eyes were sore from crying. He felt weak giving into Ren’s harsh words but the emotions were stacking up and it was hard to cope.

Ever since his mum had gone missing, Mathew had been a bit unhinged. Actually, he had _always_ been a little bit unhinged.

He remembers being in elementary and finding a dead bird that had fallen from the rafters. The other kids looked at him in horror as he had picked it up and lifted its frail wings, giggling.

Death didn’t phase Mathew in the way it should. It made his fingers thrum and his head swivel in excitement.

The closet is dark and wet, the leaking pipe was hypnotizing. Mathew looked up, making out a broken broom in the dark. He breathed heavily, hunched into a ball as he tried to catch his breath after sprinting.

He vividly remembers his first pet. It was a cute cream coloured hamster, affectionately named Meringue by his mother. It had hobbled around on its fat little legs, and it had been less than a week before he was gone.

The next hamster had disappeared too, then the next. One day his mother had broken down crying, blubbering something about how they were cursed.

Mathew didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had taken Meringue behind to the yard and beat him against a rock. When he realized what he’d done, his small bloody hands had started to shake. He had only been a child after all, the jarring red splattered over his the rock was all he could see. The shock had been brief, he picked up the animal’s small body, still warm, the last signs of life slowly fading away.

Mathew doesn’t know what had urged him to tear its chubby little legs off. He rationalizes that it was anger, but his mind had been oddly serene. Muscle and skin stretched as they ripped. It had calmed him at the time, but the memory made him sick to the stomach.

Though death didn’t make him disturbed, blood and bone did the trick quite well. Still despite the guilt, the rush he got when his hands were red and sticky was irreplaceable.

Mathew would _bathe_ in death if given the choice. Living things were full of so much life, the sort of thing that can’t be replicated via chemicals or genetic engineering.

Slitting a throat or binding a body; it excited him. Holding all of that irreplaceable life in between his fingers like sand in a fist. The feeling was fleeting and addicting, and every squeak and gurgle from the animals he steals precious life from makes his blood surge and his adrenaline shoot up.

Something chittered behind him and he jumped a bit. Just a mouse. His mind had suggested squirrel, but Mathew instinctively did his best to shake it off.

No matter how much Mathew tried to forget about the squirrel incident, it wouldn’t escape his head.

The memory nudged him again and Mathew was too tired to hide from it. He laid his head on the boxes behind him, relaxing his limbs as he closed his eyes. He let the memory play out in its entirety, every gruesome detail fresh in his memory.

He hadn’t been in his right mind. Mere days after his mother’s disappearance. After the search party said that she was probably gone. Or dead.

Ren’s teasing had pushed him over the edge. He simply stopped thinking. Before he could stop himself he had a switchblade in his hand and he was marching purposefully into the forest.

The surge of power he felt was jarring. The way his arm strengthened its hold on the metal. He was the lion and the forest was his hunting ground.

Mathew felt like he was on autopilot when he crashed through the foliage, looking for something to impale. He stumbled, falling onto a pile of leaves and mud.

He sat up, about to give up and bundle himself at the base of a wizened tree to wallow in self pity. He shifted when suddenly something moved under his weight.

Mathew jumped back, breathing heavily. He slowly pushed away the leaves. Laying there like lost treasure was a squirrel.

Its hind leg was crushed, most likely due to Mathew’s fall. It was making small chirping noises, trying to scramble to its feet.

A noise escaped Mathew that he didn’t know he was capable of. His shaking hands came down and wrapped around the squirrel’s fragile neck.

He picked it up, holding its claws down with his other hand. Its struggle increased as Mathew squeezed its neck harder with his thumb and index finger.

Eventually it rag-dolled in Mathew’s palm. The bustling forest was suddenly eerily quiet as if all the animals were terrified of this foreign predator laying waste to their land.

Mathew breathed heavily, laying the squirrel on the ground. A sadistic smile tore open his face as he gently ran his thumb along its belly fur.

“You’re beautiful.” Mathew purred, lifting it’s limp arms up. Its claws were small and thin, Mathew marvelled in their sharpness as his hands roved the small creatures body.

Mathew startled at the feeling of something stirring in his abdomen. His crotch was buzzing pleasantly and the boy whined brokenly, trying to ignore it.

“Fuck, fuck no. Not here, not now.” Mathew begged quietly, sliding open his switchblade. He restored his focus with immense energy back to the squirrel.

He brought it down slowly, pointing the tip down to the squirrel’s chest. Starting from its breast area, he cut quickly down to its pelvis. He gasped at the way his blade parted fur and skin so cleanly. One downward stroke had revealed the entirety of the squirrels intestines. The warm, bloody organs let out puffs of steam in the chilly evening air of autumn.

Mathew quickly threw away his blade, rushing forward. His eyes bulged grotesquely as he slips his thumbs into the bloody mass. He feels along the sides of the squirrel, feeling its digestive organs against his fingernails and ribs against his fingertips. The mass felt like a warm mouth and glistened alluringly in the late evening sun.

He withdrew his fingers, shaking at the way the animal’s sticky blood coated them, hot and wet. Curious, he slipped them into his mouth. The blood tasted warm and salty as expected, the tinge of iron had a guilty sting.

Mathew’s mind was twisting and flickering, suggesting ideas at such a fast rate that it made Mathew overwhelmed. 

Before he could stop himself, his shaking fingers flew to his belt. He undid his buckle and pulled the length out with a shaky sigh. His buttons were next, then his pants. 

Then he sat there like that for a long time. Enough for his twitching fingers to obey him when he hooks his waistband and pulls it down.

His dick slips out, already fully hard. Mathew was quite large and the way the foreskin peeled back and his length twitched made him growl.

His eyesight strays back to the squirrel, sitting muddy and exposed on the dusty ground.

Mathew’s hands slip gently underneath it, the most gentle they’d been the entire night. He brought the body down to his crotch, dick hanging teasingly over the form. The squirrel’s chest drips blood as if it’s intestines had been too large, bloated beyond its body’s capability to hold them.

It was all too much. Mathew’s rational mind is yelling not to do it but his dick was begging for the feeling of wet wet wet and his will was fading quickly.

Mathew sucks in a breath and holds it, he grabs his length in a tight and bloody grip and slowly lead it downwards.

He hesitantly started to push into the inviting heat. He stopped almost immediately, crying out at the sight of his cock parting the squirrels wet organs. He forced himself to keep going.

The ground felt rough and uneven and his head was spinning. It was all too much, his bare legs were itching against the dusty forest floor.

Soon his entire tip was submerged (because it was more like liquid than solid) in the bloody mess. The sight of blood alone was enough to make his dick slightly harder, the sick squelch and wet grip was addicting.

He gives a satisfied hum, pulling back and watching the squirrel’s gastrointestinal system pull and tear at the large intrusion. It felt impossibly good and yet incredibly dirty.

With an unsteady intake of air, Mathew slips into the slick thing. He doesn’t know whether he can call it an animal anymore. Blood is dripping down his balls, dotting his thighs and the ground.

Mathew’s last reserve of self restraint empties and he parts his legs, kneeling. With wet gasps and pants he thrusts into the heat with abandon, holding its torso like a fleshlight.

With his head thrown back Mathew wraps his hand around his neck, whimpering for more. He didn’t know who he was calling for but he felt like he’d explode if he didn’t say something.

He’s embarrassed when he feels his orgasm stumbling forward in mere minutes. He wills himself to stop, managing shallow movements as he surveys the damage.

The noise that escapes Mathew’s mouth at the sight is one of both fear and arousal.

The squirrel was completely ruined. Blood stained its fine white fur, matting it down. It’s guts were strewn about, lungs hanging by a string. Its intestines had been mostly unraveled, tangled around Mathew’s cock. A pool of blood was forming, slowly dribbling from the edge of the squirrels mouth.

Despite being reduced to nothing more than a fuck toy, its face was still immaculate. It was a small squirrel with tiny beady brown eyes. Its dainty muzzle was open in a silent scream. Mathew reached over with his other hand and grabbed its jaw, snapping it to the side quickly. It cracked loudly and Mathew cringed, his hold on the slowly cooling body loosening as a sick feeling crawled over his entire body.

Mathew felt like a monster, his fingers twitched with the knowledge that he was enjoying gut-fucking a dead squirrel. it was exhilarating, brain-shatteringly intense. He picked up the small body, holding it upright. Blood sloshed down the squirrel’s haunches and onto Mathew’s thighs and cock.

A long, animalistic growl clawed up his throat and his eyes rolled back. He brought it down onto his dick again, watching it intensely. Whatever organs weren’t completely liquified mushed up against the tip of his cock.

Mathew buried himself as deep as he could and started to shakily shimmy his hips upwards. It wasn’t enough, making Mathew whimper at the teasing warmth.

Grunting, he tightened his hold around the small chest. The animal’s rib cage gave a crack as it was squeezed around the shape of Mathew’s cock. He hummed appreciatively.

The squirrel was looking up at Mathew with empty eyes, jostled around as it was used. He pulled back its jaw, admiring it’s sharp teeth.

Mathew was close, really close. The squirrels haunches hung limp, swaying back and forth at the power of his thrusts.

Mathew felt more like an animal than the squirrel was at that moment. His tongue slipped out of his mouth, letting him pant freely.

His dick slips further and further in, until Mathew is using the squirrel like a fleshlight. The poor creature had been reduced to a mere fuck toy. All of its life, it’s essence draining onto Mathew’s cock and thighs.

The head of his length slides luxuriously through its throat and the slide is impossibly slick, aided by blood and whatever else is inside of a squirrel.

Mathew wasn’t ready when the tip finally edged into the squirrels open mouth. The slippery crown popped through the squirrel’s broken jaw, stretching its mouth and throat to its limit. The sight made him stop entirely, simply huffing and admiring it.

It was nestled in between the squirrels teeth. A mass of bloody intestine glistening around the tip. It frothed bright red, contents of the squirrels insides slowly slopping off of its muzzle and down its front.

Mathew pulled the squirrel’s body farther down and not only watched but also felt those teasing spikes dig into his skin gently. Through the mass of blood and organs, small canines poked like pins into the inflamed, sensitive flesh of his cock-head. The squirrel was at that point nothing more than a mass of blood and pleasure.

He had dethroned the beautiful creature from its branch, dirtied it beyond the point of recognition. He wondered whether it had family, friends. Until this mindless, ruthless killer had used it for his own pleasure.

Before Mathew can control himself, he starts to carelessly pound into the almost-squirrel. He brokenly moans and drops it onto the ground, dusty dirt clinging to the blood soaked fur.

He held himself over it, thrusting into that wet heat. There wasn’t much inside of the squirrel anymore, but the teasing drag of inflamed flesh and broken bones was enough for his sensitive cock.

He looked down at the squirrel between his legs, watched his painfully hard cock disappear into its small form. His toned, hairy legs braced against the dusty ground as his hips worked with surprising strength. He growled, hand coming down to grab at its small paws.

The gentle scratch of tiny claws against his thumb rivalled the intense heat building in his abdomen. He could fit his thumb perfectly into the clutch of the creature, gasping at the thought of running those small fingers along his lips and cock.

Mathew would have pulled out and thrust against its palm but he was too far gone to stop. His orgasm was building painfully, his hips stuttering as he tried to compose his movements.

Arms came down to squish the squirrels entire body around his spasming cock. He was resting his shoulders against the ground, knees wide apart as he bred the bloody mess with his seed.

His body was wracked with pleasure, feet scrambling against the floor as he found the best angle. Thick, sticky globs of cum burst from his cock, filling the squirrel. Mathew felt the thing oozing in his grip.

His orgasm roared through his bones, so strong and charged that he collapsed against the floor. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably, a whine spilling from the broken boys mouth as his hips worked unconsciously.

Mathew isn’t sure when his orgasm had actually finished. The overwhelming feeling in his limbs was too strong to differentiate from pleasure. All he remembers is the extreme lethargy that had filled him.

Mathew had laid in that position until the noises of the forest began, remembering the squirrel between his legs. He felt a jolt of panic and he rolled over, holding it up.

It was a bloody mess. It’s torso cavity was completely empty, the carnage apparent by the various intestines dotting the floor and Mathew’s body. Mathew had broken its arms, joints moving in ways they weren’t supposed to. When it‘d been crushed, most of its muscle had been torn and fractured bones poked through skin.

The beautiful face that Mathew had appreciated earlier was muddy and barely recognizable. It made a stone of guilt settle in Mathew’s gut.

It looked like a morbid decoration, dripping with thick, bloody cum. It left long strings as he turned it in his fingers. Another fluid was dripping from the thing, fur soggy with it. Mathew realized from the acrid stench that he had pissed in the squirrel unknowingly. He yelped, disgusted, throwing it away from himself quickly.

It landed with a wet thud. Finally rid of the atrocious thing, Mathew let himself cry. His tears were salty as they flowed down his face. After the initial high had worn off, the regret settled deep in his bones.

He knew this was something he’d never forget. Completely wrecked and empty, he held his knees close to him in a shaky grip.

Mathew doesn’t remember how he made it home that night. His father had predictably been out at a bar that night too, trying to forget in his own way. All Mathew really remembers is laying half clothed and bloody on the ground, feeling too disgusting for his bed.

He hadn’t slept that night. Just stared at the ceiling in quiet contemplation until the events prior had faded to a mere memory. Until he was sure that he could let himself relax without having to worry about what he might do. He felt more emotionless than he should’ve felt after something so horrible. Whether it was shock or afterglow he couldn’t tell, maybe a mixture of both. Whatever it was, he had been tired to worry about it.

**Author's Note:**

> I had no idea how to tag this one honestly, I had to get a bit... _creative_.
> 
> Any critique or kind words would be greatly appreciated! A simple kudos also means a lot <3


End file.
